


Alight

by karasunovolleygays



Series: HQ Rarepair Week 2020 [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Rivals to Lovers, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24178606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karasunovolleygays/pseuds/karasunovolleygays
Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime can't believe his soulmate is the guy who just wiped the floor with his team, but there is no denying the fact that he is irrevocably linked to Ushijima Wakatoshi.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Series: HQ Rarepair Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1720561
Comments: 11
Kudos: 207





	Alight

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for HQ Rarepair Week on Tumblr — Day 5: soulmate au

Iwaizumi sniffs back tears as his team lines up for the most ludicrous thing one can ask of somebody whose only loss is the end of the line: the handshake line. They’re never really handshakes, but rather a lazy stream of hands slapping together at waist level and muttered platitudes of ‘good game’. 

It’s a hard thing to say when Shiratorizawa Middle School is going to the national tournament and Kitagawa Daiichi is not.

The last in Shiratorizawa’s line is their captain, their ace, their anchor, and their strength. Ushijima Wakatoshi is a beast at only fifteen, an amalgamation of superior traits that eclipses Iwaizumi in almost every way. The last thing he wants to do right now is congratulate the guy for ending their season too early, for probably goading Oikawa into another damaging round of self-inflicted inferiority.

The din of the spectators exiting the gymnasium dies the moment Iwaizumi’s hand touches Ushijima’s.

Both their eyes widen when the subtle brush of their hands emits a warm red glow that shoots up both their arms. Oikawa’s gasp of shock behind Iwaizumi is the loudest thing in the world, only dulled by him stomping off without taking his turn.

Iwaizumi can’t begin to care; he has bigger problems.

Even as their respective comrades disperse, both of them stare at each other. The nets are almost completely put away before Iwaizumi breaks the stalemate. “So, uh, that happened.”

“It did.” Ushijima drops his hand to his side and flexes his fingers in a rare show of nerves. “So what will this mean?”

Rolling his eyes, Iwaizumi snaps, “It means we’re soulmates, dumbass. More like, what the hell are we going to do about this?”

Ushijima’s breath shudders out of him before he admits, “I don’t know.”

“Well, uh, keep it to yourself, okay?” Iwaizumi steps back, and the ambient noise starts to leak back into his ears. “I have enough to deal with to keep Oikawa from tearing himself apart over this.”

“Fine.” Ushijima’s hand steadies, and he adds, “I don’t have time for this kind of thing. Consider it null and void.”

“Good.”

With that, Iwaizumi spins on his heel and stalks back toward the changing room a lot more sedately than anything inside him is.

The room is almost empty by the time Iwaizumi reaches it, but as he expects, Oikawa is still there — fully dressed and being a moody bitch about a lot of things at once.

Iwaizumi drops down on the bench next to him and gives a lame, “Hey.” 

“Hey yourself,” OIkawa spits, finally shoving his knee pads down to his ankles. “I should’ve known this would happen.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Iwaizumi roughly grips Oikawa’s jaw and commandeers his gaze. “You think I meant for this to happen?”

Oikawa grinds away a tear with the heel of his hand. “He takes away everything!”

The quiver of Oikawa’s voice melts away Iwaizumi’s irritation almost immediately, and his grip softens. “Hey, knock it off,” he murmurs. “He can’t take anything from you that you’re not already giving him. We’re gonna kick ass in high school, and I’ll always be there to cheer you on. ‘kay?”

A snotty sniff proceeds a weak, “‘kay.”

Iwaizumi claps his hand on Oikawa’s thigh — maybe a little harder than necessary, but Oikawa’s slouch immediately snaps to attention. “Now let’s get going. The guys already saw you looking like crap. It’s our turn to look like we have our shit together so they can take their turn feeling like crap.”

“Yeah.” Oikawa worries his lower lip with his teeth before taking a deep breath. Despite the red, wrinkled, tear-stained face, Oikawa pastes on a plastic grin and says, “Let’s go rally the troops, Iwa-chan.”

Shaking his head at the infantile moniker rather than complaining about it loudly like he usually does, Iwaizumi agrees, “You got it, captain.”

As the two of them march out of the Sendai City Gymnasium toward their bus, Iwaizumi nearly forgets the way his entire body had hummed at Ushijima’s touch, the way his hand had glowed like it was full of magic.

Almost.

  
  


This is definitely the loudest game he’s ever attended. Maybe it’s because he’s usually on the court at this stage and everything else seems so far away. Perhaps it’s a reminder that he didn’t achieve his goals despite throwing himself to the academic wolves just to play in one last tournament. It’s most likely because the match between Shiratorizawa and Karasuno had been one for the ages. 

It could be, however, that Ushijima is standing stock still on the court, the last ball long felled behind him, and Iwaizumi can  _ feel _ him hurting.

A knot in the throat turns into a vise grip around his chest, and tears prick at the corners of his eyes from the intensity of it. Iwaizumi bites his lip to fight it off. 

Oikawa, jubilant over Ushijima’s defeat, doesn’t take long to notice and falls quiet immediately. “You feel him, don’t you.”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi croaks. “I can’t say I don’t know the feeling already, but yeah, it’s there.” His shoulders droop as he leans on his thighs. “Is it gonna be like this forever?”

Shaking his head, Oikawa links his arm with Iwaizumi’s and rests his chin on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “You want to talk to him, don’t you?”

Iwaizumi tries to chortle but it comes out as more of a choke. “Yeah, kinda, but what the hell do I even say? ‘Hey, your misery is making me feel nauseous, so knock it off’?”

A wry laugh worms its way from Oikawa. “Yeah, not even you are that uncivilized.” Hesitantly, he adds, “I hear that you can say things without talking. Not actual words, but feelings and stuff. He might never do that for you, but if it makes you feel better, you can do that for him.”

Eyes wide, Iwaizumi gawks at Oikawa. “You hate him. Why would you tell me that when I know very well you would rather see him stew in misery?”

Oikawa flicks the tip of Iwaizumi’s nose. “Well, not if it’s going to make you miserable, too. The only one who gets to make you miserable is me.”

Even as he tucks Oikawa’s head under his arm and turns his pretentiously disheveled hair into a rat’s nest with his knuckles, Iwaizumi can’t help the rush of well being it brings. Some things will change — maybe a lot of things — but his best friend will always be just the jackass he needs to set things right.

That lingering ache sponged from Ushijima starts to subside, and Iwaizumi doesn’t miss it when Ushijima looks up at him from the court and meets his gaze. The hurt is still there, but another feeling starts to rise up next to it:  _ thank you. _

Releasing his hold on Oikawa, Iwaizumi says, “You know what, I think I do actually want to talk to him. The soulmate thing is so rare, it would be stupid to throw it away without trying.” 

With one more rake through Oikawa’s wild hair, Iwaizumi heads for the doors where the players would be exiting.

From behind him, Oikawa calls, “Wear a helmet!”

“Eat a dick!”

Iwaizumi waits outside the players’ exit for almost twenty minutes before his quarry finally deigns to come by, but not after Iwaizumi dodges no less than six other members of the Shiratorizawa squad and the entirety of the boisterous Karasuno bunch. 

When he sees Ushijima emerge from the double swinging doors, however, the words get knotted in his throat. He doesn’t have to call out, though. A few strides into the lobby and Ushijima stops and directs his attention wholly on Iwaizumi. “You’re here.”

This coaxes a snort from Iwaizumi. “Yeah, well no shit. I want to talk to you.”

“I thought you didn’t want anything to do with this.” Ushijima shoots a pointed look toward a side door nearby, and the two of them head for it in tandem. They don’t speak or stop until they reach a white hatchback in the parking lot. 

Ushijima drops his bag in front of the hatch and hones all of his attention on Iwaizumi. “Why did you do that?”

“What, answer your little mental S.O.S.?” Iwaizumi shrugs. “I had to. I felt what you were feeling and it hurt too much not to.” He shivers at the memory. “Oikawa mentioned it was something I could try, so I did.”

Leaning against the car, Ushijima tilts his head back and sighs. The gesture startles Iwaizumi, an aberration from Ushijima’s typically impenetrable confidence. “I was so stupid.”

“What?” Iwaizumi broaches Ushijima with liquid knees, the uttered confession still ringing in his ears. “What makes you say that?”

Ushijima sits on the frosty pavement of the parking lot and melts against his knees. “I thought I understood everything, but I don’t know anything.”

Iwaizumi sits next to Ushijima and tries to conjure a smile, though he’s certain it more closely resembles a wince. “You mean looking at Kageyama and Shorty and thinking there is no way these two could possibly beat you, and then they do just that?”

Shoulders stiffening, Ushijima murmurs, “Among other things.”

“Oh?”

Staring out at the quickly dwindling patch of cars nearby, Ushijima says flatly, “I told Oikawa I thought you were weak. That all of you were.”

“Yeah, I know,” Iwaizumi admits. “Oikawa bitched about it for five straight minutes. Wasn’t surprised, really.”

He feels Ushijima wince next to him. With a sigh, he amends, “I mean, I don’t think you believe that now.”

Ushijima doesn’t answer. Instead, they sit quietly until the chill of the pavement starts to numb Iwaizumi’s behind. “Uh, do you mind if we like...don’t sit on the ground? My ass is cold.”

“Oh.” Ushijima fishes a set of keys from his pocket and clips on the key fob. “We can sit in the car.”

Agawk, Iwaizumi croaks, “You have your own car?”

Getting up without answering the question, Ushijima sits behind the steering wheel and stares straight out the windshield until Iwaizumi is inside and the door closes. “My mother bought me a car as soon as I started driving school. She didn’t want me to take the bus because she hates bus people, but she also didn’t want anything to do with taking me places.”

Iwaizumi’s jaw sags open. “Oh shit, dude, that really sucks.” He thinks of his own mother who would let him live at home forever if she has her way, and he can’t imagine what it’s like for the complete opposite to be his reality. 

When his stomach lurches, Iwaizumi realizes he really does know what it feels like now. “I need to stop asking questions or we’re both gonna puke.” He eyes Ushijima’s hand balled around the shifter knob and tentatively reaches out to cover it with his own.

Warmth that has nothing to do with temperature floods his limbs, but almost as soon as it starts, it’s over when Ushijima snatches his hand away. Iwaizumi crosses his arms and looks away. “Sorry. Just trying to help. I should probably go.”

“Don’t.” Ushijima puts his hand back between them. “I’m not used to being touched like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like it’s not my job to be the strongest one here.” Squeezing his eyes shut, Ushijima murmurs, “I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this. I don’t even talk to my friends about it.”

This time, when Iwaizumi slides his palm over Ushijima’s balled up fist, neither of them balk. A subtle glow grows where their skin touches, and that warmth blossoms as Iwaizumi fills his mind with thoughts of friendship and comfort. His lips twitch into a smile when the tension in Ushijima’s grip slowly melts away.

His chest feels tight as the train speeds away from the station. Somewhere back there, Ushijima is watching him disappear off in the distance. One of them hates that he’s leaving, or both; Iwaizumi can’t tell yet.

When he’s far enough away, though, the ache remains and Iwaizumi knows at least half the blame for his discomfort is his own. 

After breaking the ice after the prefectural championship match, the two of them had managed to forge a tentative partnership of sorts. Are they friends? Iwaizumi isn’t sure. Are they more than friends? He doesn’t know that, either. What he does know is that Ushijima doesn’t talk to anyone else about things that eat at him. Iwaizumi has always had Oikawa for things like that, but it isn’t long before he finds himself spilling his guts to Ushijima, as well.

It’s a stupid mistake on both their parts, because their newly forged companionship is over in the blink of an eye. Iwaizumi is going off to college one prefecture over, Ushijima is jumping straight into the national volleyball program and then on pro volleyball. Their paths aren’t destined to cross anytime soon.

When the salaryman next to him starts to snore against the window, Iwaizumi pulls his hood over his head and tightens the drawstrings until it covers almost his entire face. He won’t be able to nap with the noise next to him, but shutting out everything else has its appeal. 

Iwaizumi arrives at campus with two suitcases in tow and a head spinning with all the new sights. Unsure exactly where he’s going, he follows the swarm of other students decked out in school attire. 

His dorm is cramped and smells a little bit like a shoe, but his roommate is a good guy and the food in the cafeteria is reportedly excellent. It would all be a heady experience if he weren’t feeling so utterly solitary, isolated amidst throngs of other students.

It takes three days for him to crack and call Ushijima. The line only rings once before it clicks to life, and Iwaizumi wonders if Ushijima has been waiting for a call or vice versa. “Hey.”

Ushijima’s deep, smooth voice answers, “I was about to call you to see how you were settling in.”

“Yay, I finally win one.” Iwaizumi lets out a shuddering breath and sags into his bed with his eyes closed. “Can we just . . . talk for a while?”

“About what?”

“Anything. Your favorite brand of gym shoe, your thoughts on climate change, your favorite bubble tea flavor — whatever.” He looks around the dorm room, empty save for himself because his roommate is shacked up with his girlfriend for the night. With a rasp, he adds, “I just don’t want to be alone right now.”

“All right.” 

He had asked for any subject whatsoever, and that’s what Iwaizumi gets. Ushijima begins to outline the general plot of a new manga he had started to keep him busy during off hours at national team training camp. 

The story bears several similarities to the old myth of Gilgamesh, and Iwaizumi wonders if maybe their companionable accord has anything to do with the selection.

Eventually, it’s Iwaizumi’s turn to expel his cache of nerves wrapped up in the mundane happenings of going from class to class, and Ushijima hangs onto every word. 

It isn’t until Iwaizumi is in the midst of a tale about falling asleep with his anatomy book over his face that his voice cracks. His eyes sting with tears, and his breath shudders as he dashes them away. “Shit,” he croaks. 

After a long stretch of silence, Ushijima finally says, “What’s your room number?”

Iwaizumi blinks. “What?”

“I know you’re in Osaka Hall, but which room?”

“Two-seventeen. Why?” After a couple of minutes without an answer, Iwaizumi checks to make sure the call hasn’t dropped, but what does drop is his phone when there is a firm knock at the door.

His hands shake as he fumbles with the lock. The last thing he wants is for the rest of the residents in this hallway to see him red-faced in tears, but he goes anyway. 

When he opens the door to a sleepy-looking Ushijima, Iwaizumi nearly tips backwards. “How the hell did you get here?”

“The train.” He yawns and raises a brow. “May I come in?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Iwaizumi rambles as he backs away to make room at the door until his calves hit the foot of his bed and knock him on his behind. “I, uh . . . so, what brings you here at almost midnight?”

A smile teases at the corners of Ushijima’s lips as he settles on the edge of Iwaizumi’s bed. “Since I don’t know anyone else here, I would think it’s obviously you.” 

Too drained to argue about Ushijima making a hundred kilometer (probably expensive) trip so late in the evening when he has practice in the morning, he melts into Ushijima’s side and accepts the arm that wraps around his shoulders.

“You said you didn’t want to be alone.” Ushijima rests his cheek atop Hajime’s unkempt hair. “So now you’re not.”

That calm confidence Ushijima has always radiated starts to melt into Iwaizumi’s skin, and the heavy cloak of solitude begins to fall away. 

Neither of them talk; they’ve had their fill of that already. Instead, Ushijima gives and Iwaizumi receives this time. 

Iwaizumi’s eyes droop closed, close to drifting off to sleep entirely when Ushijima gives him a gentle shake. “Hajime, you should sleep.”

“Mmm hmm,” he grumbles, pliable while Ushijima strips him of his jeans and t-shirt until he’s clad in only his boxers. “Sleep sounds awesome.” He crawls under the covers and groans in appreciation, his entire body already starting to sag into the mattress in relief.

The creak of another body climbing in next to him from the foot of the bed snatches Iwaizumi from the first vestiges of sleep, and he inhales sharply at the feel of bare flesh pressed against his back. However, in seconds, a honey-like comfort oozes through his body once a familiar arm drapes over his hip.

“Thank you,” Iwaizumi whispers, and he isn’t sure if the feel of lips pressed against the nape of his neck is real or if his imagination conjures up the perfect end to a surprise visit he hadn’t known he needed until it happened.

It’s before dawn when the shifting mattress stirs Iwaizumi from his slumber. His eyes barely open, he squints until he spots Ushijima collecting his clothes from Iwaizumi’s desk chair. 

Limbs protesting as he hoists himself up, Iwaizumi meets Ushijima’s gaze. “You didn’t have to stay, but I’m glad you did.”

Ushijima nods as he tugs his jeans back on. “Good.” Fully clad, he heads for the door, but his hand stops on the handle when Iwaizumi calls out his name — his given name.

“Wakatoshi, wait!” Iwaizumi bullies his sleep-logged limbs into motion and meets him at the door. His hand covers Ushijima on the handle, that familiar subtle glow lighting up the darkened room.

At Ushijima’s expectant gaze, Iwaizumi reddens. A thousand thoughts gush through his head at once, but the noisiest ones clamor for one thing they’ve never done, that last step from one type of relationship to another.

Too tired to argue with himself, Iwaizumi lifts himself onto his tiptoes and presses a kiss to Ushijima’s lips. That tingle of euphoria he’s only felt on his arm or shoulder blooms in his lips and fills his entire being. 

Iwaizumi pulls away reluctantly, definitely blushing harder and breathing a lot harder, as well. “Next time, I’ll come to you.” 

The back of Ushijima’s free hand brushes against Iwaizumi’s cheek. “I look forward to it.”

Standing there long after Ushijima slips out of the room, Iwaizumi’s heart pounds loud in his ears. Is it him, is it both of them, he doesn’t know.

One thing is for certain, however: he is most certainly on the verge of falling for his soulmate.

  
  


Iwaizumi’s eyes swim as he sits in the front of the audience with his bachelor’s degree in sports medicine latched between trembling hands.

He did it. He finally made it past four long years of being away from his family, his friends, and his primary source of strength in Ushijima, who is seated on his right while Iwaizumi’s immediate family sit to his left. Oikawa is on Ushijima’s other side, sticking out his tongue at Ushijima whenever his back is turned. When Iwaizumi chuckles at the sight, Ushijima just rolls his eyes and continues ignoring his former rival.

“Congratulations,” Ushijima murmurs after the next student receiving their certificate earns their due round of applause. “You’ve worked very hard and you deserve this.”

“Hell yeah I did.” Iwaizumi throws his arms around Ushijima and gives him a crushing embrace, sticking his tongue out at Oikawa over Ushijima’s shoulder when his best friend since he can remember makes a cartoonish gagging sound.

Hugs come from his whole family in attendance, and the jubilation carries over to a nearby barbecue restaurant where the affection flows as freely as the meat and booze.

It’s dusk by the time they leave the restaurant, with Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s mother holding each other upright, Iwaizumi’s brother trying to walk as far away from them as possible without getting lost, and Ushijima’s hand firmly in Iwaizumi’s grip. 

Their hotel isn’t too far away, so they take in the crisp night air while Oikawa talks way too much about embarrassing stuff.

Next to Iwaizumi, Ushijima cracks that almost-smile he reserves for a precious few people. “I assume he’s going to act like this never happened,” Ushijima whispers.

“Like hell I’m gonna let him forget talking to my mom about pubes,” Iwaizumi replies, barely stifling a snort. “Welcome to my home life.” 

“I look forward to it.” 

At these words, Iwaizumi’s heart beats a little bit faster, and his suit feels a little too hot under the collar. Once he collects his things from his home in Sendai, he’ll be boarding another train away from Miyagi. This time, however, the destination is Saitama, where Ushijima’s new team’s practice facility is. Upon arrival, he will begin interning with the team’s official physiotherapist until he can get a posting of his own.

In other words, they’ll be together, and they can finally _be_ _together._

Once the family and a wobbling Oikawa are stowed away at the hotel, Iwaizumi meets Ushijima in the hallway to head for the room they’re sharing for the night.

Iwaizumi groans when he looks at the neatly made bed in the center of the room, undisturbed save for Ushijima’s suitcase perched on the foot of it. It’s the first time they’ll share a bed that isn’t made for a single person, as well as the first time they get to curl up together with little chance of being disturbed.

Nervous hands dig through his duffel bag for something light to wear to bed, and he gratefully shucks his suit. Ushijima does the same. 

Both of them in typical sleepwear, they look at the bed in tandem before their gazes meet from either side of it. “I, uh . . .” Iwaizumi’s face flames as he struggles to find the words to convey what he wants. “Do you, uh, maybe want to —” He rakes his fingers down his face in embarrassment. “Fuck.”

“Hajime,” Ushijima murmurs, and Iwaizumi starts at the sound of his given name, something he’s only used to hearing in his mother’s sing-song voice. “Look at me.” 

Ushijima’s hands rest on Iwaizumi’s shoulders and slowly push down his arms away from his face. Those familiar brown eyes bore into him, and Iwaizumi is sure Ushijima knows what he’s asking. 

“I want to give myself to you, and I hope you want to do the same.”

His entire body abuzz with anticipation, Iwaizumi swipes Ushijima’s suitcase onto the floor and pushes him back onto the bed. He straddles Ushijima’s lap, his lips hovering a whisper away from Ushijima’s. “That is exactly what I want.” 

Iwaizumi leaves a trail of kisses down the line of Ushijima’s jaw, drinking in the gasps of enjoyment. Rough, solid hands sneak under the hem of Iwaizumi’s plain t-shirt, the rasp of Ushijima’s fingertips sending shivers up his spine.

Neither of them have done this before and Iwaizumi doesn’t remember either of them being ballsy enough to even bring it up, but the moment is here. On the off chance they might explore such things with one another, Iwaizumi had made an extraordinarily cringe-worthy purchase at a convenience store for supplies, which are tucked away in his bag.

The mere thought drags a ragged moan from Iwaizumi.

However, Iwaizumi’s exploration of Ushijima’s bronzed flesh pauses when another thought surfaces. “Uh, Waka, which one of us is gonna . . . you know.” 

“What?” Understanding lights in Ushijima’s eyes. “Oh. Do you have a preference?”

Sitting up, Iwaizumi lolls his head back and sighs at the ceiling. “This is ridiculous. I’m a goddamn grown-up. I have a degree in  _ biology. _ I shouldn’t be this nervous talking about sex.”

Ushijima covers Iwaizumi’s hand with his. “Maybe you’re nervous because you want it to be good, but you’ve never done it before.”

“You know, I think you’re right.” Iwaizumi leans down to press a searing kiss to Ushijima’s lips. “I know how it works, I have the stuff to do it. All I need outside of that is you.”

A roll of the hips makes Ushijima’s eyelids flicker, and he resumes his trek to visit every taut expanse of skin with renewed vigor. 

Something Ushijima had said years ago resurfaces in his desire-skewn mind.  _ I’m not used to being touched like that, like it’s not my job to be the strongest one here. _ The meaning then had been one of comfort, and this is far different. Nonetheless, the message is the same.

“Wakatoshi, let me take care of you, ‘kay?”

Ushijima raises his hand and presses his palm against Iwaizumi’s. The familiar glow shines brighter than ever as they touch. “I know you will.”

  
  


**_Omake_ **

The last box hits the floor of the genkan, Iwaizumi’s entire body aching too much to drag it the rest of the way to their room.

_ Their room, _ he muses with a chuckle. They’ve planned on this move for clearly a year, but the reality of it, the last thing they have left to share, is almost larger than life. 

Ushijima, the rat bastard, hasn’t even broken a sweat from copious laps up and down the stairs laden down with boxes. Instead, he comes and takes the last few of them to the room they’ll be sharing.

Iwaizumi drops on the couch and stretches his limbs. “I should not be this out of shape.” When Ushijima returns, he comes bearing twin bottles of iced tea. “You read my mind.”

“Since your physical conditioning is voluntary now, I doubt you have to push through those last few reps at the gym.”

“I’ll drink to that.” They open their bottles and click the tops together. It’s a toast to them, their journey, and the life they had started to build with each other since they were fifteen and with no end in sight.


End file.
